


Kings

by theDeadTree



Series: GreedFall Oneshots & Scene Collections [7]
Category: GreedFall (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Dysfunctional Family, Family, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26854792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theDeadTree/pseuds/theDeadTree
Summary: Scenes between Constantin and De Sardet.
Series: GreedFall Oneshots & Scene Collections [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1505774
Comments: 10
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Constantin and De Sardet have such a tragic relationship, I love it. So I decided to try my hand at fleshing them out a little more, and came out with this.
> 
> We're back to first-person as well, sorry if that irritates anyone.

“You’re drunk.”

It wasn’t a terribly difficult deduction to make – the smell of alcohol was almost overpowering just by virtue of him being there. I let out a long-suffering sigh and glanced up from the book in my hands, only to find Constantin half-collapsed in the doorway of the study, watching on with wide eyes and a dopey smile. He looked thoroughly pleased with himself, clutching a bottle of what looked like some kind of frightfully expensive alcohol to his chest and never once flinching.

I didn’t know why I was surprised, really. It was hardly the first time this had happened.

His smile only widened at the accusation, and he quickly sank into a clumsy bow, one hand gripping the door frame in order to keep him from falling, his balance clearly thrown.

“Guilty as charged!” he acknowledged gleefully, taking a moment or two in order to carefully right himself, before finally deigning to glance at his surroundings. “Wait… wait, wait- you’re in here? _Why_ are you in _here?_ _”_

I returned my attention to the book that now sat in my lap, deciding in that moment that I didn’t want to pursue this conversation any further. “I’m trying to concentrate, Constantin.”

“Don’t tell me you’re _studying?!_ _”_

I rolled my head back and groaned – loudly and obnoxiously, in the vain hope he’d understand just how much I wanted to be left alone – easing the book shut before slouching in my chair. I stayed there, glancing up just enough to see him, already feeling the sheer disappointment rolling off him in waves. I knew what he was going to say. I’d endured this speech from him so many times I could almost see the words forming in his mind.

“Trying to,” I admitted quietly before he said anything, hoping against hope I could avoid the impassioned speech about living life to the fullest for the time being. “But I’m not getting very far with it, I fear.”

There was a dull thud as Constantin all but threw himself against the wall, quickly sagging to the floor. “But Sir de Courcillon isn’t even _here!_ So why are _you?_ _”_

“Because I’d _like_ to understand it.”

The comment was met with a look of nothing short of absolute disgust, which I quickly elected to ignore.

“What an excruciatingly dull existence you lead,” Constantin mumbled, staggering to his feet, doing his best to remain tall and composed despite being unable to keep himself from swaying precariously from side to side. “We’re about to embark on the adventure of a _lifetime_ and you’re just- just… _reading?_ _”_

I glanced back down at the book, not quite sure how to respond to that. Wondering if it was even worth responding at all. No matter what I said, Constantin would try to use it against me. I knew that. I’d been in enough of these little verbal sparring matches to know what he was like. He would stand there, slowly wearing me down until I agreed to go with him. Then he would drag me out to at least ten different taverns, drowning himself in alcohol the whole way, loudly boast to anyone who would listen, drunkenly flirt with some unfortunate young woman, and wander off on his own. And I would find him collapsed in a pile of hay in a stable somewhere come the morning, passed out in his own vomit.

We’d done this dance, so many times before. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t tired of it.

“The Principality of Sérène is about to be bereft of your presence, and you won’t even say farewell to make the loss _slightly_ more bearable?” Constantin called, his face twisting into an expression of theatrical mock-outrage as I said nothing. “So _callous,_ cousin! How can they hope to survive without you?”

My lips curved into a somewhat cynical smile at that. “You aren’t subtle when you’re trying to be manipulative.”

He pulled back, his hand flying to cover his heart. _“Manipulative?_ Cousin, I assure you, I only have your best interests at heart!”

“Why don’t I believe that?”

“It’ll be _fun,_ _”_ he insisted, brandishing the bottle in his hand as if it would somehow entice me. “The two of us, out on the town! All of Sérène will _bow_ before us! Wenches watch out!”

I didn’t bother to grace that with an answer. All of it sounded like nothing more than a disaster waiting to happen. And if years of experience were anything to go by, that was exactly what it would be.

“Come _on_ cousin…” Constantin whined, leaning in my general direction as if to reinforce his point. “It’s a beau- …it’s nice… it’s a _day._ An evening! How can you spend it here, alone in this _hole?_ _”_

I pinched the bridge of my nose and let out a small, slightly agitated exhale. “Sir de Courcillon-”

“Won’t kill you if you take a night off for _once_ in your _life,_ _”_ Constantin interrupted, making a wide sweeping gesture at the door. “Besides, you could use some…” he trailed off for a moment and swallowed hard as he realised he was poking at an open wound and didn’t quite know how to proceed.

I carefully placed my hands on the book and looked up, watching him carefully, silently _daring_ him to finish.

“…good,” he finished, somewhat lamely, almost immediately wilting under my hard gaze. “Uh, good things? Cheer. Cheering up!”

The room immediately descended into silence as the truth of the situation seemed to hit the both of us and I turned my head away; suddenly unable to meet Constantin’s eye. The reality of it, of what was happening, of what we were about to do and who I was leaving behind, hit me all at once. And now I was drowning in it, struggling desperately under the crushing weight of it all.

I wouldn’t see her again, once we left. Running away and forgetting about it simply wasn’t an option anymore. I’d have to say goodbye, sooner or later.

Of course, instead of doing that, instead going and seeing her like I should have – like _any_ dutiful child was expected to do when their mother lay on her deathbed – I hid myself away in here, doing everything I could do keep myself from confronting reality. I locked myself inside and I buried myself in whatever painfully trite books I could find, willing myself to simply cease existing.

And Constantin had found me, because _of course_ he had.

“I appreciate the thought, Constantin,” I began slowly, wincing at the slight pain that came out in my voice despite my best efforts to hide it, “but I fear I won’t make for very good company. And I’d really rather _avoid_ making an ass of myself.”

Constantin threw his head back and let out a theatrical groan; looking far too much like a toddler throwing a tantrum, all melancholy abruptly gone from his mind. “You. Are so. _Boring._ How are we even related?”

“A mystery for the ages, to be sure.”

“Cous-”

“No.”

_“Adélard…”_

_“No,_ Constantin.”

We fell into silence at that point, as Constantin finally began to realise that he wasn’t going to be able to convince me, despite the excessive pouting he was throwing in my direction. I carefully kept my eyes down, doing just about everything in my power not to respond as he ducked and bowed and swayed from side to side in frustration like he was three years old.

“Very well,” he huffed grumpily after a pause, folding his arms tightly across his chest and slowly shambling his way back out into the hallway. “I shall _simply_ have to make do without you. Heaven help me.”

I sighed. “Do you _have_ to go out?”

Constantin looked aghast at that, his eyes growing wide the instant he spotted what I was implying. _“Obviously,_ cousin! What else would you have me do?”

“You could stay in,” I pointed out quietly. “Just this once.”

Constantin’s eyebrows shot up incredulously at the mere suggestion. “The night before we finally get to leave this cesspit? Surely you’re not _serious!_ _”_

“What if something happens?”

“Nothing is going to happen,” he called loudly while gesturing at himself, his lips cracking into a wide grin as he did so. “And if it _does,_ it will be nothing I can’t deal with.”

“Constantin, we’re departing in the morning. I won’t have time to run around the city looking for you.”

He scoffed at that, leaning out into the hallway without looking back at me. “I will be alright, _mother._ _”_

I slouched back in my chair, running my hands over my face in some vain effort to alleviate the stress that was quickly building up behind my eyes. He’s going to be the death of me at this rate. I was going to worry myself into an early grave purely at Constantin’s expense, and everyone knew it.

“Honestly, Adélard,” he continued when I said nothing, “you worry _far_ too much about me.”

My lips quirked with the faintest hint of a smile.

“Someone has to.”


	2. Chapter 2

The ship seemed to creak uncomfortably each and every time it rose and fell with the waves, which in turn did absolutely nothing to alleviate the churning in my stomach. I let out a quiet moan and leaned as far over the railing as possible, staring absently at the ocean below, trying to focus on something – _anything_ – that wasn’t the constant, nauseating movement.

“Alright, cousin?” I heard Constantin chirp happily from somewhere behind me, followed by faint thudding as he all but bounced to my side.

I groaned and clutched my head in some effort to stop the throbbing pain. “Quietly wishing for death.”

He laughed at that – loud and hearty, full of life and energy that didn’t seem real to me. “We’ve only been at sea for an hour so!”

I closed my eyes and tried to focus on breathing. Only an hour? It feels like it’s been an eternity. How many more would I have to endure before feeling dry land beneath my feet again? A thousand? Ten thousand? Either way, far too many. Already it felt as though I’d spent a lifetime here.

It’s beginning to occur to me that I don’t travel particularly well. Just as well, I suppose. I was never in much of a rush to return.

I must have grimaced at that point, as Constantin’s smile very quickly faded and he very quickly turned his head away in what seemed like some desperate attempt to avoid looking at me. “I’m… sorry, Adélard.”

Immediately, I glanced up to look at him, eyebrows raised incredulously.

“Sorry?” I repeated, not quite sure what he was talking about. “What for?”

“I’ve been so caught up in myself,” he said, making a sweeping gesture at the endless expanse of ocean around us, “I barely gave a thought to- …this must be painful for you. I didn’t mean to dismiss that.”

The corners of my lips twitched slightly. “I know, Constantin.”

I wasn’t about to blame him for that – I _couldn_ _’t._ He had been desperate to break away from his family; to leave Sérène and all its scheming behind for years now. Now, he was getting exactly that, along with a chance to finally prove his parents wrong about him. If anything, I felt as though _I_ should be the one apologising, for bringing down the mood.

We remained in silence for a moment, neither of us seeing any real point in forcing conversation. I closed my eyes and let out a quiet groan, hoping that if I couldn’t see the water, it might alleviate the nausea that threatened to overwhelm me. Instead, it simply brought everything to the forefront; the churning in my stomach, the pounding of a headache I was only now beginning to realise I had. I pinched the bridge of my nose and let out a sharp exhale, wondering if I would ever feel well again. Suddenly unable to recall what that even _felt_ like.

“Do you think there’s any credence to the rumours?” Constantin asked dryly, pulling me back into reality as he settled on the railing and stared absently out at the horizon. “Or is this all an elaborate trick of my father’s to finally be rid of me?”

“You think he founded a colony purely for your sake?” I shot back at him, my voice slightly strained and hoarse. “Isn’t that _a little_ melodramatic?”

He nodded, a small smile pulling at his lips. “Well, when you say it like _that,_ I doubt I’m worth the effort. The rumours must be true after all.”

I laughed. “No, no. Tell me how this was all specifically orchestrated for you. That’s _far_ more compelling. Not completely self-absorbed at _all._ _”_

“Alright, alright! You’ve made your point!” he yelled, his tone indignant and yet unable to contain his laughter as he elbowed me in the ribs. “You _arse._ _”_

The instant he made contact, I felt acid bubble up in my throat and I leaned a little further over the railing, coughing and gasping for air while frantically doing everything in my power to force it back down. Immediately, I felt Constantin’s hand gently slap my back in what I think was supposed to be a supportive, helpful gesture.

It didn’t help. If anything, it just made me feel worse.

 _Could_ the rumours about the island be true? Everything I’d been told at this point seemed nothing short of fantastical. Part of me had been somewhat hesitant to believe it, at least until…

A shiver travelled up my spine as the memory of what happened at the port, and the creature’s final, piercing gaze came to the forefront of my mind.

“What are you thinking about?”

I didn’t answer him immediately – largely because I wasn’t quite sure what the answer was in that moment. In truth, my mind danced about without focus, going from one thing to another and back again faster than I could get words out.

“That… beast,” I managed finally.

Constantin let out a thoughtful hum and leaned back, hands never quite leaving the railing. “It was _quite_ the battle, wasn’t it? I daresay you even impressed Kurt.”

I let out a brief snort of bitter laughter, quickly glancing down at my hands. “Worried him, more like.”

He shrugged nonchalantly at that. “Is there really a difference when it comes to Kurt? Besides, you didn’t see him. There was a nod of approval and _everything._ _”_

“Thank you, but Kurt’s opinion is about the furthest thing from my mind at the moment.”

“Then…?”

I bit my lip, not quite sure what to say. How to even begin phrasing myself when I wasn’t even sure of the point I wanted to get across.

“This is going to sound like utter lunacy,” I muttered, carefully keeping my eyes on the waves as I already felt the heat rising to my cheeks at the simple thought of trying to tell Constantin any of it. “But the way it stared at me in the end, I…” I winced, before quickly shaking my head. “It’s nothing.”

Constantin nudged me, the corners of his lips pulling into a sly smile as I glanced up to meet his gaze. “It was hardly _nothing._ _”_

“Excuse me?”

“Cousin, I _saw_ that fight. Trust me, you were _brilliant._ It would have killed you in a second had you given it the chance.”

I let out a somewhat strangled chuckle before slumping over the railing once more, though whether it was from the nausea or something else entirely, I couldn’t say.

“You think?” I asked, not bothering to look up at him. “I’m not so sure.”

“What do you mean?”

I exhaled quietly and closed my eyes, jerking my head slightly to one side as if to shake the memory of its dying stare from my mind.

“I… I’m not sure I can explain,” I said after far too long a pause. “It was weak and in pain and the way it looked at me, I… I felt- _…something._ I’m not sure at all, now. The more I talk about it, the more absurd it sounds. Perhaps it was just its expression.”

My gut clenched a little at the memory, at the sadness and pain in its eyes as it searched me, like it had been looking for something I hadn’t known was there. Something about it had seemed almost _human,_ in that moment.

And I’d killed it.

I’ve been hunting before. A thousand times before. I’ve never felt this guilty over killing an animal, let alone one that was rampaging and putting people at risk. I don’t understand what changed. But behind all the blind fear and rage, something about it had seemed strangely… _sentient._

A shiver went up my spine at the thought.

“Or I must’ve imagined it,” I mumbled after a brief, uncomfortable pause. “I don’t know.”

Constantin shrugged, pulling me sharply back into reality. “I’m not sure either, to be honest. But you _did_ put it out of its misery, and kept it from attacking the port. I’d say you did the right thing.”

I want to believe that.

Part of me _has_ to believe that.

“In any case, the island is apparently _full_ of-” Constantin almost immediately cut off, the colour quickly draining from his face as his head quickly snapped back around to meet my eyes. “You’ll be _careful_ while traipsing the wilderness, won’t you, cousin?”

I smiled crookedly at him. “Are you _worried_ about me?”

He rolled his eyes what seemed like to the sky and back at my little jab. _“Someone_ has to be.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Out,” I hissed over Constantin’s shoulder, brow creasing with annoyance when the guards simply exchanged a confused glance and didn’t move.

On another day, perhaps a better day, I would’ve tried to meet them with some understanding. I would have walked over to them, quietly explained the situation as I understood it, and urged them as politely as possible to leave us for the time being.

Instead, I remained obstinately where I was, pulling Constantin in as close as possible, in no mood to explain myself and never once bothering to try. It wasn’t typically like me, I knew that. No doubt the guards would talk. For once in my life, however, I found that I simply could not bring myself to care.

 _“Everyone out!”_ I shouted, still clutching Constantin tightly as it took every ounce of self-control not to simply _scream_ at them. “That’s an _order!_ _”_

The sheer aggression on my part was noted, that much was clear from how they all stiffened with surprise. And then, finally, _mercifully,_ the guards slowly filed out of the room, many casting awkward looks at the two of us as they left. I waited, glaring at the door until it closed behind them, unmoving, refusing to let go of Constantin even as he pushed against me slightly. Only once I knew they were gone and we were truly alone did I finally release my grip on him, standing still as he staggered back a few steps, pale-faced and eyes wide with badly concealed terror.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice faint and hoarse.

 _“Breathe,”_ I urged him, one hand still lingering on his upper arm even as I pulled myself back a step. “You’re going to be alright.”

And it was in that moment, when those words left me and I found myself staring him directly in the eyes, it truly seemed to dawn on me.

This was real.

This was _happening._

It was happening, all over again. And I would have no choice but to stand there and watch, _all over again._

This _can_ _’t_ be happening. Not to him. Not _now._

 _Please,_ I found myself desperately begging no one. _Please, don_ _’t do this to me. Don’t make me go through this again. Not with him._

It didn’t make any _sense!_ Why was this happening? Why was it happening _here,_ and _now?_ Tír Fradí was notably exempt from the malichor; there wasn’t a single reported case of it anywhere on the island. And the time it had taken us to sail from the continent… he should have been showing symptoms long before now. We should’ve still been on the ship by the time it began in earnest. He hadn’t even been feeling _ill_ until after we arrived here. The timing was all wrong.

Do I really know that? The timing in every case is different; I’d seen enough of them in Sérène to know that. All different, and so _excruciatingly_ similar. Some people resisted better, lasted longer than others. But the symptoms appeared sooner or later, and the outcome was always the same.

There was a mild illness first. Fever, headaches, fatigue. The nausea. Then lesions would appear, and with them the pain. The senses would begin to fade – usually smell and taste were the first to go. Blindness, if it came, would set in afterward, as it progressed to the later stages. Eventually, the skin would putrefy. Organs would begin to fail. The body slowly rots from the inside out, with no way to save it.

I’d seen it all before. I couldn’t bear to see it again.

I’ll save him. I will find a way. I _have_ to. I couldn’t do anything about it before, but _now?_ I’m here. I have leads. I can find something that will help. I won’t lose him, not like I lost her. I _refuse._

“Don’t leave me,” Constantin whispered, his voice suddenly small and timid, like he was little more than a frightened child. “Adélard, _please._ _”_

“I won’t,” I assured him, my mouth running dry as I struggled to think of something, _anything,_ else to say. “I’m going to find a cure, I _promise_ you.”

There has to be something here that can save him. I’m close, I can feel it. It can’t all be for nothing. I can’t watch the person who matters most to me waste away before my eyes again.

Constantin’s lips twisted into a grimace and he stepped back, ripping himself out of my grip before turning on his heels and stalking off towards the window, squinting through the harsh light of the morning. I stayed where I was, rooted to the spot, watching him carefully, waiting for his reaction.

“Didn’t you say the same thing to your mother?” he spat without once looking back at me. “You know I’ll be dead before you find one.”

I inhaled sharply and closed my eyes, hating myself as the hurt took hold in my chest, sinking its vicious claws into my heart. I couldn’t take it personally – he was frightened and lashing out, I knew that. He’d done this before, countless times before. This was nothing I hadn’t endured a thousand times already. But now…

Now was different, wasn’t it?

I tensed the instant he mentioned my mother and stared at him, not sure what to make of the comment. Not entirely sure how to respond.

Did he know? About her, about me? Had he always known, and said nothing? Was this a jab not only at the fact that I’d let her die, but that she wasn’t who I’d believed her to be in the first place? Does it even _matter,_ at this point?

Rather than think on it any more than that, I breathed. There wasn’t anything else I could do.

“Don’t say that,” I insisted feebly, starting towards him. “I _will_ succeed; I’ve already some promising trails to explore-”

 _“Stop,_ Adélard,” Constantin cut across me harshly, whirling around on the spot. “Just, _stop._ _”_

I stopped. I stood there and said nothing more, if only to humour him. There was a moment of dead silence as I waited and he fidgeted, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, chewing his lip anxiously as he finally realised just what he’d been saying to me.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, keeping his head down and not quite able to meet my eye, his cheeks flushed slightly with what I knew was shame. “I’m sorry. I just- …I don’t know, cousin. The tidings are so awfully dire… I’m afraid.”

I reached out, gently clasping his shoulder in some vain effort to reassure him. “I know. But you don’t have to go through this alone. I’m here. I will _always_ be here. No matter what happens.”

The corners of his lips twitched with the smallest hint of a smile, but it was gone almost as soon as it came. Instead, he closed his eyes and let out a long, exhausted sigh, softly petting my hand as he visibly tried to calm himself.

“Enough of that,” he said, mostly to himself, opening his eyes once again and bringing them up to meet mine. “Tell me, what brings you here? Surely you didn’t come simply to console me.”

I winced. From a conversation he doesn’t want to have to one _I_ don’t want to have. At the moment, I’m not sure which is worse; the prospect of his diagnosis, or the idea of being forced to confront everything I’d learned recently. I felt suddenly fragile, more so than ever before, as if I was inches away from simply shattering into a thousand pieces.

What if he knows? What if he’s _always_ known? Can I accept that as a possibility? Can I live with it if it’s true? Can I forgive that? Am I even _capable_ of forgiving that?

I want to say yes, for his sake. But I honestly don’t know if that’s really true. I’ve never been so confused.

This isn’t a conversation I want to have right now. I’m not certain it’s a conversation I’ll _ever_ want to have.

“It can wait,” I managed in a somewhat strangled voice. “It’s nothing that can’t be dealt with later.”

Constantin shook his head. “But please! _Please._ Whatever it is, it will take my mind elsewhere.”

“Constantin-”

“Humour me.”

I backed up a couple of steps, pulling myself away from him and carefully retreating to a safer distance. I could see something in his face fall the instant I moved, his eyes darting all over my person as he frantically tried to figure out what was wrong, and automatically began to brace himself for whatever was coming.

“Oh, _god,_ _”_ he moaned, a hand reaching up to massage his temple. “More bad news, is it? I’m not certain how much more I can take.”

“The Nauts had been sworn to secrecy,” I said quietly, casting my gaze to the floor and never moving it. “But I was able to get the whole story out of the admiral, in exchange for a service.”

His brow creased slightly. “That doesn’t sound bad at all so far. I take it this _service_ was your recent business in San-Matheus?”

I nodded. “Indeed.”

We were both being unnecessarily formal, despite being the only ones in the room at that point. Something about the situation seemed to call for it, I suppose – in that moment, we were legate and governor discussing a report far more than we were cousins attempting to find any solace in each other’s company.

I winced.

_Cousins._

Does he know?

Do I even want to know the answer to that question?

“As our investigation was leading us to imagine, the Congregation _did_ once attempt to colonise the island,” I continued stiffly, trying my best not to think about it and failing miserably. “The Nauts discovered it some two centuries ago, and brought our people here a few decades later. But the enterprise to colonise the island failed _completely._ There were a great many bloody battles; few colonists survived. The princes preferred to hide their defeat, and paid the Nauts to keep the secret.”

For a moment, Constantin said nothing at all, simply shook his head and crossed back to the throne on the far end of the room, easing himself down into it. I didn’t move, watching him from where I was, still and unmoving as he seemed to lose the last scrap of his fragile composure and let himself slide down into a deep slouch.

“Of course,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Of _bloody course._ Of _course_ that’s what happened! You know, the fact that they hid it from the world, I honestly understand. But now we’re here, _again,_ and my father didn’t deem it important enough to even _inform me_ that we’ve been here before! And _why_ would it end _there?_ Tell me, cousin! How _else_ is my father a selfish, greedy, manipulative _bastard?_ _”_

I didn’t say anything, instead opting to turn on my heels and face him fully, walking over until I reached the base of the dais the throne was perched upon. He didn’t need me to respond. We both knew he wasn’t really looking for an answer.

I could have simply left it there. I probably _should_ have.

“Did you know?” I asked with any preamble or really any context at all, hating how quiet and broken my voice sounded.

Why am I doing this? Why am I even asking him? It won’t change anything, I know that. I shouldn’t even be this upset – not now, not at him, not like this. He already has the terrible weight of the malichor hanging over him, I have no right to make it worse. I need to let this go, and focus on helping him. On figuring out a way to _save_ him. That’s all that matters.

I have to fix this. I have to do _something._ I have to look out for him, keep him from harm, keep him _safe._ That’s all I’ve ever done. It’s all I’ve ever had to do, all that’s ever been expected of me. And now he’s dying right in front of me just like she did and the only thing I can bring myself to care about is my own problems.

Selfish.

Constantin blinked in surprise, sitting up slightly at my question. “Know what?”

“About me.”

“Adélard, I don’t-”

“What about the expeditions?” I pressed, never quite able to keep the growing hostility out of my tone. “The _kidnappings?_ _”_

He watched me, eyes widening slightly in surprise, completely taken aback by both my tone, and my words. “What are you _talking_ about? Who was kidnapped?”

 _“Me,_ Constantin!”

And that was it.

For a moment – one long, agonising moment that seemed to last forever – there was nothing. No response. Nothing at all. Constantin stared at me absently, eyes wide as I stood there, blinking several times, shocked at my own outburst. We stood there, staring at each other, both of us completely lost for words as Constantin’s expression shifted from confusion to outright horror.

The deathly silence was almost too much to bear.

“You… didn’t know,” I whispered hoarsely after what felt like an eternity, eyes wide as the realisation finally dawned on me.

Of course he didn’t. Why would he? When has there ever been precedent for that? When has his father told him _anything_ of remote import, regardless of how it actually would affect him? What was I _thinking?_ I’m supposed to know better than that. Usually, I _do_ know better than that. I’d just been so caught up in myself that I had automatically assumed the worst. But in the end, if I bothered to think about it for more than a single second, it was obvious that there was no way he could’ve known.

I sat down. Hard.

I’m an idiot.

Are we simply taking it in turns to angrily lash out at each other today?

“Adélard,” Constantin called, his voice quiet and tentative, almost as if he was worried I’d lash out at him if he didn’t approach me with the utmost care. “What- what’s going on? What are you talking about?”

I shook my head slightly, pulling my knees to my chest in some vain attempt to make myself as small as humanly possible. He didn’t know. He didn’t know anything and now I was going to have to explain it all in a calm and rational manner that I’m not sure I’m even capable of anymore. I’m going to have to break that news to him and I… I can’t. I can’t be the one to tell him. Not after everything that’s happened already.

“…Adélard?”

“There were expeditions, after the first colonisation attempt.”

“And?” he prompted quietly.

I closed my eyes and tried to breathe. _“And…_ according to the admiral, my-” I cut off for a moment, my breath sticking in my throat as I realised I was going to have to say it, I was going to have to repeat what Cabral had told me, what I’d been refusing to fully acknowledge or accept. “My- my _mother_ came from the island and was brought back. I was born on one of their ships.”

The words left a bitter taste in my mouth. Nothing about them sounded right. But then, nothing about _any_ of this was right.

“What?” Constantin choked out. “But- but that means you are not-?”

“Your dear cousin?” I suggested a little scathingly. “No.”

It was only now, now that I’d been forced to say it, did I realise what exactly that meant. Suddenly, everything I’d been told, about my parents, about _myself,_ was a lie. All the stories my mother – though she was never really my mother, evidently – had told me when I was young, all her quiet assurances, every single remark she had ever made about how I was the spitting image of my father… none of it was real. It had never _been_ real. Just a fable spun for a little boy who hadn’t known any better. One more cruel manipulation to add to the piles of manipulations the court of Sérène was no doubt famous for.

She was never going to tell me, I realised. She knew she would never see me again once I left and instead of coming clean, of being _honest_ with me, she decided to let me keep living a lie. So she could die knowing that I genuinely believed I was her son.

Did she _ever_ really care about me? I’m not sure I know anymore.

Why does it hurt so much to realise that? Why am I even _surprised_ to realise that? She was the sister of the prince, born and raised amidst the court, perfectly capable of lying and manipulating just as much as the next person. Now that I know she lied to me for my entire life, how am I supposed to take _anything_ she told me seriously?

Immediately, my hand flew up to the necklace that hung around my neck, fingers brushing over the pendant, tracing the lines of the carving.

What even _was_ this?

I pulled it over my head, holding it in my hands and staring at it, already in half a mind to simply throw it away out of sheer defiance. I didn’t need it. I wasn’t even sure I _wanted_ it anymore. All it did was remind me of her, and now all the lies she’d ever told me. There was no reason to keep it. It would be better – _healthier_ – if I simply rid myself of it.

Instead, I let out an exhausted sigh and put it back on, quietly hating myself for being so sentimental.

I want to believe she cared. I want to believe it was all genuine, and always had been, despite the circumstances. Part of me _has_ to. The alternative is unbearable.

 _“…god,”_ I moaned, curling further in on myself and burying my face in my hands. “Why did they do that to me?”

“I don’t know,” Constantin responded distantly. “It’s another one of their sly and dark orchestrations. Some _vile_ intrigue.”

The corner of my lip twitched with the beginnings of a bitter, crooked smile.

It always was.

“We’ll keep this between us,” he continued quietly, not reacting as I immediately straightened, twisting around to look at him incredulously. “No one needs to know. My aunt adopted you, after all.”

I blinked.

He couldn’t just be leaving it there, like that. Could he?

“And… what? That’s it?” I found myself asking, almost in spite of myself.

Constantin jerked slightly at the sound of my voice, his head snapping up from where he’d been resting it in his hands. “What?”

I stared at him. There didn’t seem to be anything else I could do.

 _What,_ he says, as if it’s a completely normal morning, as if none of the past fifteen minutes – as if none of the past _twenty-four hours_ – actually happened.

“You’re ignoring it, just like that?” I asked – closer to a demand, really, though I was far beyond the point of caring. “We’re not even going to _discuss_ it?”

Why am I even _surprised?_ Isn’t this what Constantin _does,_ every time he’s faced with a problem? Haven’t we _both_ spent our entire lives running away from every mild inconvenience that ever dared to rear its ugly head? Avoidance was something of an old friend at this point; a luxury we had both always been able to afford. Why would it be any different now?

I winced at the thought.

It’s different, because now _I_ _’m_ the problem, the thing to be avoided at all costs. I’m the threat to our once oh so very comfortable lives. I’m the stranger in the room. And for the first time since I can remember, ignoring it isn’t enough. And for the first time, I found the silence completely unbearable.

Anxiously, I glanced around the throne room – quiet and empty aside from the two of us. Everything here… it’s so much like the palace in Sérène. So much like home. Everything about it was so familiar, so normal to me, and suddenly, I couldn’t shake myself of the feeling that despite that, despite everything, I didn’t belong. That I never had. Suddenly, I wasn’t Constantin’s cousin, wasn’t the legate, wasn’t a lord, wasn’t even a Congregation citizen. I was just a native savage, dressed in some elaborate costume and playing pretend at a life that was never supposed to be mine.

It wasn’t real.

It wasn’t _ever_ real.

And now that the illusion was gone, I was left with the reality of it – that I was little more than a dancing monkey, purely at my uncle’s beck and call. Living proof to all the colonials that the natives can be _civilised,_ that it’s possible to tame this place and its people, to turn all the rabid barbarians into proper, respectable folk. And eventually, the last surviving scrap of the natives will be people like me; displaced and cut off from their culture and identity, living their lives believing they are something they were never supposed to be.

A shiver went up my spine the moment that thought crossed my mind. Is that all I am? Is that what the natives see, when they see me? The terrible fate that awaits them all if they don’t fight it with everything they have? Am I really that hateful? Can I even _blame_ them? I must be a tragedy to them.

“Just- just _speak_ to me,” I found myself begging him, desperately trying to meet his eyes. _“Please.”_

Constantin didn’t meet my gaze. Rather, he remained entirely focused on the windows, squinting through the harsh morning light that came streaming in. “We have nothing further to discuss.”

_“Constantin-”_

“What does it _matter_ where you came from? It’s not as though-”

“It matters to _me,_ Constantin!” I all but screamed at him before I could do a single thing to stop myself; chest heaving as the weight of it all suddenly came crashing down. “It matters to _me._ _”_

He didn’t respond to that; just turned his head and stubbornly ignored my existence like I wasn’t even there. I waited in silence, my mouth opening and closing slightly as I tried to think of something – _anything_ – I could say.

I just- I want… I _need_ to talk about it. I need someone to assure me everything is fine, that I’m allowed to feel _whatever_ it is I’m feeling. I need someone to tell me who I’m supposed to be, because I’ve completely lost sight of myself. I need support. I need validation. I need _help._

I can’t do this.

Here I am, drowning in everyone else’s problems, being pushed further and further down by the crushing weight of them, suffocating myself just to keep everyone around me afloat. I’ve spent my entire life looking out for other people, helping everyone else at my own expense, and I can’t _do_ it anymore.

I’m tired. I am _so tired_ of this.

I feel like I’m losing my mind.

And the silence went on. It went on for what felt like years.

“Here I am, dying of the malichor, while _your_ entire life turned out to be a lie,” Constantin murmured finally, his eyes never straying from the floor. “What a delightful pair we must make.”

_“Constantin…”_

He held a hand up to silence me. “Please, Adélard. Let me laugh about it. I fear I’ll completely lose my mind otherwise.”

I closed my eyes and let out a soft exhale, placing my hands behind my neck and resting my head on my knees, wishing for nothing more than to simply cease existing entirely.

And the silence went on.


	4. Chapter 4

An almost eerie silence had descended upon the governor’s palace – and indeed, New Sérène at large – in the days following the coup. I winced with almost each and every step I took, unable to ignore the fact that the simple sound of my boots on the floor seemed to echo endlessly, or the quiet clinking of crockery on the tray I carried, with no other sounds to drown them out. The usual flurry of activity was nowhere to be seen, leaving nothing but an emptiness that felt completely unnatural.

Constantin hadn’t left his room in days.

I let out a soft sigh and rolled my shoulders back as I stopped just outside his door, not entirely sure what I was doing. Not entirely convinced it was the right thing to _be_ doing; not when I still had a long list of outstanding tasks waiting. But after everything that had happened, truthfully, work was about the furthest thing from my mind.

Standing there, food in hand, awkwardly shifting my weight from one foot to the other, completely at a loss – it felt so familiar. How many times had I found myself in this situation, back in Sérène, standing outside her door, unable to bring myself to enter?

Nothing changes.

The person I care most about in the world is wasting away and instead of doing the right thing and being there, I’m out here, using every excuse imaginable to keep from confronting reality. It seems no matter what happens, no matter what I do, those fundamental truths will always remain the same. I’m doomed to lose people over and over and _over_ again, forever; and I’ll try to run every time because I can’t bear to face it, and nothing _ever_ changes.

I closed my eyes for a moment and tried to focus on breathing. It _will_ change. This time will be different. It _has_ to be. I can’t do this again.

“…Constantin?” I called his name softly, gently knocking on the door with my spare hand. “Constantin, it’s me. May I come in?”

I waited.

Silence.

I wasn’t sure what else I expected, really – it was hardly the first time he’d done this. Once he found that a problem could no longer simply be ignored, he would inevitably fall into a heap, electing to instead wallow in self-pity. He had always been that way, ever since we were children. And because nothing changes, here we were again. Here _I_ was again, standing outside his door, trying to figure out what to say.

How is it everything can be so different now, and yet is somehow able to stay exactly as it always was? How can it all feel so completely alien and so agonisingly familiar at the same time?

I sighed quietly and placed my hand on the door handle. “I’m coming in.”

I cracked open the door slowly, wincing a little as it creaked, just wide enough to see inside, watching the light slice across the room. The curtains were still drawn, leaving his room in darkness that normally would have obscured the mess. I grimaced a little at the sight of it – books, papers, broken bottles, quills and the like strewn across the floor, stains on the walls where things had been thrown in a fit of sheer frustration.

I opened the door a little wider as I slipped inside, looking up just in time to see Constantin’s pallid face poking out from beneath his bedspread, dark lesions standing out vividly from his deathly pale skin. Immediately, he let out a wordless hiss and pulled the covers further over himself, quickly disappearing from view. No amount of hiding could obscure the smell, however – faint, but nonetheless present. Flesh beginning to decay. It was so familiar to me that in that moment, it was almost overpowering.

I wrinkled my nose slightly and exhaled, my mind already cast back to places I couldn’t bear to remember. For a moment, I stood there, leaning against the door until it clicked shut, my chest constricting a little as I struggled to put those memories behind me.

“I’ve brought food,” I told him with forced cheeriness, doing everything in my power not to think about it as I carefully made my way across the room, through the debris.

 _“Leave,”_ he snarled back, his voice muffled through the copious amounts of blankets.

I sighed and carefully picked up an overturned chair with my spare hand, setting it down beside his bed. “You need to eat.”

There was a vague, incoherent grunt at that, and not much else. I slowly lowered myself into the chair, watching the lump of bedspread he was hiding under, content to sit there for as long as it took. I won’t lose him. Not to this thing that’s already taken so many others. I _can_ _’t._

“What’s the point?” came the eventual response, his voice low and sour.

“Starving yourself to death here won’t fix anything,” I reasoned quietly.

“It’d be a better death than _this._ _”_

“You don’t really believe that.”

He let out a frustrated growl and shifted slightly, annoyed that I wasn’t bothering to indulge him. Meanwhile, I sighed quietly and allowed myself to slide down into a slouch, suddenly hyper-aware of the exhaustion gnawing at the edges of my mind, and the brutal tension that spread out across my shoulders and back. I wasn’t sure what else I could do other than simply sit there, and be with him. It was, at the very least, more than I’d managed with her.

I winced at the memory, unable to ignore the resentment that tainted it now.

I don’t want to feel like this. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life hating her; bitter and resentful because I can’t bring myself to get past the lies. I don’t want to sit here and blame her for all my problems. I don’t want my one enduring memory of her to be how she hurt me. I never wanted any of this and I can’t stand how I’m here regardless, doing all of it anyway.

“Go _away,_ Adélard,” Constantin ground out furiously after a pause, dragging me unceremoniously back to reality.

I didn’t move. “Eat something first, and I’ll consider it.”

“You are _infuriating_ sometimes, you know that?”

“I know.”

“Why?” he demanded, throwing off the covers he’d been using as a shield, bolting upright just to glare at me. _“Why_ are you _like_ this? Why do you even _care?_ _”_

I blinked, not entirely sure what he was trying to get at. “You’re my _family,_ Constantin. Why _wouldn_ _’t_ I care?”

Constantin’s lip immediately curled at that, and he practically threw himself back down, quickly rolling over so he was facing away from me.

“We’re not _family,_ _”_ he spat back, more venom in his voice than I’d ever heard before. “We never _were_ family. Claiming anything else is just delusional.”

I pulled back, recoiling in shock as my eyes grew wide, my chest constricted, and I suddenly found it difficult to breathe. There had always been some part of me – some foolish, _naïve_ part of me – that had never expected to hear that, to hear Constantin say something like that to me. Even after everything that had happened in the past few days, all the insanity that had dictated our lives recently, I never imagined he’d get to this point.

I stared.

For so long, that was all I could do.

It was difficult to say what hurt me more in that moment; what he said, or the blunt harshness with which he said it.

“Constantin-” I started, hating myself as my voice cracked. Hating how lost and hurt and so completely broken I sounded in that moment.

He didn’t move. _“Leave.”_

I sat there for a moment, staring at him, unable to quite process any of what just happened. Unwilling to accept any of it being _real._ Eventually, I let out a sharp exhale and turned away, pushing myself out of the chair, leaving the tray of food behind as I made my way back to the door, my heart pounding in my chest. I shouldn’t have come here. He clearly doesn’t need or want my company, and I have a thousand other things to do. I never should’ve come here.

Is that it, then? Am I nothing to him now? Am I supposed to just _accept_ that? Pretend we’re complete strangers? Am I supposed to ignore everything, forget a lifetime of memories because my mother wasn’t who I thought she was? Because _I_ _’m_ not who I thought I was?

I stopped just as I reached the door, my hand hovering over the handle, rooted to the spot, part of me torn between leaving him alone and staying exactly where I was, despite his orders.

“Fine,” I whispered, my voice hoarse as my hand fell back to my side. “If that’s what you want to believe, then _fine._ We’re not family. I’m not your cousin.”

He didn’t reply. And in all honesty, I never really expected him to. Instead, I was met with a deathly silence as we both remained exactly where we were, neither bothering to say anything more. Neither of us _able_ to say anything more.

“Do you remember that day we spent at the spring?” I asked quietly, slowly turning on my heels to face him. “You would have been… what, eight or nine? We caught what must have been a thousand tadpoles.”

“And released them into the courtyard fountain at the palace,” Constantin mumbled, his voice low and sullen and barely audible. “I remember.”

The corners of my lips twitched. “In just a few weeks, the noise was almost deafening.”

“My parents were _furious,_ _”_ he murmured distantly, sounding as if he too, was lost in the memory. “I don’t think I saw outside my bedroom for _weeks._ You got away with it, because of _course_ you did. _Ad_ _élard_ couldn’t be involved, he was _far_ too responsible.”

I didn’t move, rooted to the spot and unable to say anything more. 

“And you came to see me,” he added a little distantly, after a pause. “You scaled the walls and climbed in through my window every evening, despite knowing that they would have killed you if they knew. You worried I resented you.”

I winced a little at that last part, the memory suddenly all too clear in my mind. That one, and countless others. A plethora of silly childhood adventures, many of which I’d almost completely forgotten about until now. Things that hadn’t meant anything at the time, but now felt like the most precious things in the world to me.

“I haven’t _changed,_ Constantin,” I insisted quietly, not quite able to meet his eyes. “Those memories, they still happened. That was _real._ _”_

They all felt so far away now. The vague, distant experiences of a completely different person, in a completely different lifetime. But they _were_ real. And I found myself clinging desperately to that idea. Suddenly, it was the only thing that really mattered to me.

“Blood relative or not,” I began quietly, my voice wavering as tears threatened to fall, “you’re my _best friend,_ Constantin. You always have been.”

Once, not very long ago, I’d thought that had been enough.

And now, all I could do was stand there, silently begging that it still was.

 _Please_ let it be enough.

“Tell me that still counts for _something,_ _”_ I whispered after what felt like an eternity.

He didn’t reply.

I watched him for a moment, almost longingly, silently pleading with him to just say something. _Anything._ I watched him, hoping against hope that he’d give me something, some indication that it wasn’t completely over, that it wasn’t all lost, that there was still some worth in what we had – whatever that was supposed to be now.

Instead, he said nothing at all, and the silence was deafening.

I cast my gaze down and let out an exhausted sigh, rolling my shoulders back in some vain effort to release the tension before turning back to the door.

“I’m sorry.”

My head immediately snapped up at the sudden sound of his voice after what seemed like an eternity of silence, blinking in confusion. “…what?”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, his voice low and hoarse as he rolled back over, staring absently up at the ceiling. “God, Adélard, I’m _so_ sorry. I never should’ve- …I didn’t mean it. I’m just… I’m frightened. I’m frightened I’ll never see you again.”

“Never see me again?” I repeated, a little confused. “Constantin, I’m _right here._ _”_

“But you aren’t really _here,_ _”_ he insisted quietly, his eyes never wavering from the ceiling, apparently unable to meet mine. “I don’t think you have been since… well. _Everything._ _”_

“What are you talking about?”

“I… I feel like I’m losing you,” he whispered, his face twisted into a pained grimace. “To this place, to your past. One day, you’re going to choose the natives over me. Or you’ll get so distracted with them that you won’t even _remember_ me.”

“Constantin,” I began, almost completely at a loss. “That’s _absurd._ _”_

“You’re _all_ I have,” he said, still not looking at me, his hands balling up into tight fists as the words left him. “I can’t… I can’t lose you. Not now. Not to this place.”

“You _won_ _’t.”_

He shook his head slightly and didn’t answer. Almost immediately, I crossed the room, kneeling at his bedside, reaching out to hold his hand.

“Listen to me,” I said quietly. “Constantin, _listen to me._ You’re _not_ going to lose me. I’m not going to lose you. We’re going to find a cure, and everything will be alright. Trust me.”

He let out a brief shout of hollow, bitter laughter. “You’re so sure of yourself.”

I ignored that. “Do you trust me?”

The corners of his lips twitched.

“Constantin, do you _trust_ me?”

“I trust you,” he answered finally. “Always, Adélard.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Lord de Sardet!” Lady Morange just about yelped in surprise as she saw me standing there, horror blooming across her expression as she realised she’d just unknowingly slammed the door into me when she came bursting through it. “My apologies, I didn’t see you!”

“Is that Adélard?” Constantin’s – surprisingly perky – voice called loudly out from inside the throne room, his words slurring together slightly.

My eyes slid to meet hers and for a moment I just stared, too shocked at hearing him to even speak. It had been three days now; three days of waiting for news, and receiving none. Three days of not knowing if I was going to see him awake again. Three days of pacing around the house, trying to figure out where to go from here, after everything that had happened. If it was even worth trying to continue at this point. It had just been three intensely stressful days, after several intensely stressful months.

Because that’s what the island _does,_ isn’t it? It takes and it takes and it _takes;_ it takes everything, and will keep taking until I’m a broken, burned out husk of a person with absolutely nothing left. Maybe it hasn’t happened just yet, but how long until that changes? How long until something utterly catastrophic happens and I lose everything chasing a cure that may not even _exist?_ How much more do I need to go through before I’ll finally feel justified in cutting my losses?

I just want to go home. If I can even call Sérène that anymore. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.

“Don’t keep me in suspense!” Constantin’s voice continued after a pause. “Send-”

He was cut off as Lady Morange quickly closed the door behind her, looking at me almost pleadingly. “He just escaped a deathly sleep and here he is, ready to _conquer the world!_ _”_ she hissed in a loud, clearly frustrated whisper. “Your cousin is _exasperating._ _”_

“He’s _awake?_ _”_ I barely managed to choke out in response, despite the answer being painfully obvious.

Lady Morange simply nodded, before letting out a long, thoroughly exhausted exhale. “Perhaps _you_ can talk some sense into him, Your Excellency. He refuses to hear it from me.”

And without another word, she pushed past me, stalking off down the stairs, quietly complaining under her breath the whole way. For a moment or two, I watched her go, not quite sure what to make of the situation. Not quite sure what was expected of me anymore. And finally, after much too long a pause, I let out a harsh sigh and pushed the doors open, making my way into the throne room.

After weeks of almost dead silence, it seemed positively _brimming_ with activity now. A full compliment of guards stood at attention, and servants nervously rushed about with various tasks. Light streamed in through the windows, which had all been thrown open – presumably in an effort to air the palace out. And standing alone in the midst of all that, was Constantin.

Harsh green veins ran across his skin; starkly contrasted with the dark bruising and deep scars the malichor had left him with. Meanwhile, little shoots poked up throughout his hair in the beginnings of what I knew would ultimately become a crown of branches adorning his head. For the first time since we’d arrived here, I was taken aback by it. After spending so much time with Síora and other doneigada, I’d gotten used to seeing such characteristics, to the point I barely noticed them. Now, suddenly seeing it on Constantin… it was jarring. And felt completely _wrong,_ somehow.

We’d spent an honestly embarrassingly large part of our lives trying to find things we had in common. We both had this strange need to be similar, to look related, like we belonged together. Trying to prove everyone who said otherwise wrong, I suppose. I can’t say it ever really worked. And now we finally _do_ have something in common, and all it’s done is made me feel uneasy.

I felt a shiver crawl up my spine as my hand automatically flew up to my face, fingertips tracing my jawline, running over skin which had always felt to me as though scarred.

Then I shook my head and dropped my hand back to my side, opting to instead think about literally _anything_ else.

“…Constantin?”

“Cousin!” he cried at the sound of my quiet, somewhat hesitant voice, whirling around to face me fully as his lips split into a wide, manic grin. _“There_ you are! I was about to send out the entire palace guard to look for you!”

I arched an eyebrow slightly at that – it was the first time he’d called me that in what must have been weeks now. We hadn’t been cousins for what felt like an eternity; Constantin had made a point of only referring to me by my name since the truth came out. Because it had hurt him, more than I ever realised. At the time, I’d mindlessly assumed it was the malichor affecting his mood. And perhaps it had been, but it was never the root of the issue. In the end, he’d been clinging to me, to the relationship we had, holding on for dear life throughout everything else. When even that turned out to be built on lies…

Well. We stopped being cousins. We were both confused and hurt and nothing was what either of us thought it was. For a while, we were barely able to be friends.

“I’m here,” I said quietly, crossing the room to meet him. “What do you need?”

He let out a hearty chuckle and shook his head at my tone. “Always so _formal._ Come! Join me! We have _so much_ to celebrate.”

My brow creased as I reached him, taking note of the wine glass in his hand. “You’re drinking?”

“Of _course,_ _”_ he chirped. “I can scarcely think of a better time!”

“Constantin-”

“You there!” he cut across me, turning on his heels to address a nearby servant, arching his spine slightly as he leaned back, almost threatening to topple over entirely. “More wine, if you please! None of that local swill – the good stuff! And _do_ be quick about it!”

The man he directed this to gave a quick, stiff nod before practically fleeing the room, apparently desperate to be anywhere else. Suddenly, the mood in the throne room felt tense and wary, as I noticed just how much the staff were skirting around Constantin, seemingly always trying to find an excuse to avoid him as much as possible. The unease was suddenly clear to see; plastered across their faces, all too clear in the way they would stiffen the instant they thought his attention was on them.

My brow creased at that, not quite sure what to make of it.

“Constantin,” I began a little stiffly, doing my best to focus on him and nothing else, “I don’t think-”

He stopped, his posture slumping as his head rolled back to face the ceiling, letting out a long, theatrical groan. “I can’t believe this. You’re scolding me as _well?_ _”_

I pulled back. “What? No! No, no, _no._ It’s just- …Constantin, you almost _died_ three days ago.”

“All the more reason to celebrate, don’t you think?” he responded cheerfully, carelessly waving off my concern.

My expression didn’t change.

 _“Relax,_ Adélard,” he practically ordered, his hand slapping against my back with such force I almost lost my footing for a moment. “You’ve done more than enough. Without you, I would be dead…” he trailed off as he quickly counted on his fingers, _“thrice,_ wouldn’t I? Or is it the fourth time? Hell, if we start counting the time you stopped me from climbing the ramparts of Sérène, we’d be up to _five_ times now!”

I closed my eyes for a moment and sighed, not letting myself get caught up in the memory like he clearly wanted me to so we didn’t have to talk about him anymore. He isn’t subtle when he’s trying to be manipulative. It was a little painful, actually, how blatantly obvious he was being. I’d grown so accustomed to the careful political dance of the court, and the careful push and pull that was managing a political nightmare, that this seemed almost childish in comparison.

And all the while, he watched me so earnestly, waiting to see if I was going to take such obvious bait. I arched an eyebrow slightly at him, opting to simply appear politely incredulous at his efforts.

“Are you alright?” I asked quietly, not entirely sure what else I could say. “After everything that’s happened-”

Constantin rolled his eyes dramatically at my question and turned away, opting to pace rather than so much as look at me. “You’re worrying about me again.”

“You nearly died,” I reasoned, a little exasperatedly. _“Of course_ I’m worried about you.”

“I don’t recall you being such a fretful mother hen back in Sérène.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and groaned, before gesturing vaguely at his scarred face. “Can you at least appreciate that here I might have a _reason_ to be?”

He didn’t reply, though did come to a slow halt, one hand running through his hair, fingers taking careful note of the beginnings of the branches growing from his scalp. For a moment, we both stood there, me watching him carefully while he seemed completely transfixed. And suddenly, it was clear how much he didn’t know about what he’d done to himself. How little he _cared_ to know. He’d leapt headlong into the ritual, the consequences of which seemed to only now occur to him. Soon it became painfully clear that I had no idea what Catasach had told him, or even if he’d told him anything at all.

And for my efforts, I wasn’t sure I could say I knew any better. I’d been inside the caves of knowledge, seen the frescoes and passed the various trials. I’d even attended the ritual in person. And still, the actual mechanics of it were lost on me. I don’t know what this means. What it could end up doing to him, or the effect it could have.

But he seemed fine. Happy, even. Maybe that was all that mattered now.

Then, finally, without any real warning, he seemed to snap back into reality, his hands quickly dropping to his side as he turned on his heels to face me, suddenly all smiles again.

“I haven’t even taken a _look_ at myself,” he breathed, marching back over to me, gesturing excitedly at his face. “Is the improvement visible? Do we _finally_ share a resemblance?”

I blinked.

His excitement over the prospect was palpable – he watched me with wide, expectant eyes and a giddy, boyish smile pulling at his lips, genuinely delighted by the whole idea. And for so long, all I could do was stand there and watch him back, my mouth running dry as I struggled to think of a response. He may as well as have been four years old again, running up to me with a huge grin and green ink smudged across his face, chest puffed out with pride.

Because we’d both spent such an embarrassingly long time trying to look like we belonged together. But I’d only ever wanted to look normal. Constantin wanted to look like _me._

How did it take so long for me to realise that?

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I joked weakly, turning away so I wouldn’t have to meet his gaze.

“Aha!” he shouted suddenly, without warning, causing me to jump almost violently in surprise. _“Finally,_ the wine is here!”

I whirled around just in time to see Constantin snatch up the bottle that was being presented to him, quickly pouring its contents into a spare glass and refilling his own.

“A toast!” he all but shouted, one hand thrusting the second glass into my chest, while the other wrapped tightly around my shoulders. “To _us!_ For defeating the odds, even as they were stacked against us! And to my dear cousin, for passing all trials set before him! Soon, we will have finally defeated the malichor once and for all.”

My eyes narrowed slightly. “I haven’t actually done anything, Constantin. And what I _have_ done will be more hindrance than help.”

“Nonsense!” he proclaimed, making a large sweeping gesture at the room, uncaring as his wine spilled from his glass. “You’ve passed this supposed _trial,_ haven’t you?”

I winced a little at that. “I- …I have, yes.”

“And? What was like? You simply _must_ tell me all about it!”

I closed my eyes and tilted my head back slightly, hands reaching up to rub the back of my neck as I struggled to think of what to say. Or anything, really. I’d barely even considered the trial of water, or its implications. What it likely meant to the natives now that I’d passed it. What it meant for _me_ that I’d been allowed to take it in the first place.

I’m not a spiritual person by nature. It shouldn’t have meant anything to me. Just one almost humiliatingly small step closer to what seemed like an impossibly distant goal.

And yet.

“It’s… complicated,” I hedged somewhat weakly. “I’m unsure I can discuss it without violating a sacred trust.”

“You’re not going to tell me?” Constantin demanded, eyes wide and his expression aghast as he searched me, frantically, for some reason why I was avoiding telling him everything. “All because of some native law?”

“I was the first outsider ever to be permitted to undertake the ritual in the first place. I don’t want to break that trust.”

“Outsider?” he scoffed in response. “You’re a native, just as much as any of _them_ are!”

A strange sort of shiver travelled up my spine the instant the words were out of his mouth.

I used to think maybe I could carve out a place for myself here; find some sense of belonging that’s been eluding me my entire life. But the more time I spend with the natives, the more I try to understand them and their way of life, the more I realise that I’m not part of it. That I never will be part of it. Vinbarr wasn’t wrong. I _am_ an outsider. I’m caught in some strange in-between, never quite capable of crossing over to either side. I’m starting to realise that I always will be.

It was an upsetting thing to realise, at first. But I’ve never truly belonged anywhere. So what’s actually changed?

“Ignoring the fact that statement is blatantly untrue,” I sighed quietly, pinching the bridge of my nose in exasperation, “I _passed._ That’s all that matters.”

He let out a loud, theatrical groan and ran his spare hand dramatically through his hair before finally relenting. _“Fine,_ I suppose. I’ll have to harass you for details at a later date.”

That was about as close to dropping the subject he was ever going to get, I knew it.

“In any case,” I added a little dully, doing my best to remind him that we were far from victorious, “Vinbarr’s death _will_ complicate matters. And that’s only if the natives will even _speak_ to me now.”

“Problems for another day, Adélard!” he declared, either not seeing the pained expression plastered across my face, or outright ignoring it. “You’ve come closer to finding a cure in a few short months than anyone else has in _decades!_ Now _that_ is an achievement worth celebrating!”

My brow creased. “Constantin-”

“And besides,” he continued without looking back at me, “if _anyone_ can make the natives see reason, it is undoubtedly you.”

“Constantin.”

“I suppose it goes to show that my father isn’t wrong about _everything,_ _”_ Constantin drawled, quickly draining the last of his wine and immediately whirling around in search for more. “No one has been able to manipulate the islanders quite like you have. You are _uniquely_ talented, cousin.”

_“Constantin.”_

He paused for a moment, his face quickly screwing up in disgust. “Ugh. I just complimented my father. I may be sick.”

I sighed, but found myself smiling regardless. I’d missed this; missed his vigour, his light-hearted enthusiasm. Suddenly, it felt like years since I’d seen it. For such a long time, it felt as though the island had taken that too.

“I have so many _ideas,_ cousin,” he positively gushed in my direction now. “Not just for the island. For Sérène! My father won’t be prince forever – thank _god_ for that. Everything we’ve learned here, we can put it to so much use on the continent! The power the natives wield is unlike _anything_ else – well, you know! You’ve seen it! Just think of what _we_ could do with it! The court will _hate_ it of course, but they hate _everything_ that differs even _slightly_ from the norm…”

He trailed off, his eyes glazing over slightly as he became lost in what I assumed was a sea of hypotheticals. For a moment – one painful, agonisingly long moment – he stood there, staring absently out at nothing, before abruptly stiffening, turning on his heels and swivelling around to face me once more.

“You may be getting a little ahead of yourself there,” I told him, unable to help but smile as I finally could see some shades of the person he’d been prior to his malichor diagnosis finally return.

“Oh Adélard, you have _no idea,_ _”_ Constantin told me excitedly, his lips cracked in a wild grin. “It’s going to be _glorious._ _”_


	6. Chapter 6

I cried out as my back hit the ground, almost immediately followed by the nádaig’s foot coming down on top of me, punching what little air was left from my lungs. Pain exploded across my body as it held me in its claws, pressing me further into the dirt. I was trapped there, struggling to breathe, struggling beneath the creature’s sheer, crushing _weight_ as the dirt seemed to turn to ash, all life being forcibly pulled from it.

I felt blood well up in my mouth as I lashed out against it, gripping what I could of its long, wickedly curved talons and trying – however vainly – to force it off me. Every fibre of my being seemed to be screaming out in agony, flagging from fear and stress and sheer exhaustion. I could barely breathe, and my chest being crushed by this _thing_ certainly wasn’t helping. It was going to hold me there, pressed into the dirt, until it was too late. It was going to keep me trapped there until there was nothing left to save.

The island itself was going to die, right here, right in front of me; felled by my own idiocy. And for all my efforts, I still couldn’t do a damned thing to save it.

My fault.

All my fault.

I can’t-

I can’t do this again.

I can’t watch the world die around me, _again._

My hand closed around the hilt of a knife and I thrust it – with as much force as I was physically capable – into the nádaig’s flesh, burying the blade in its foot, as deep as it would go.

Immediately, the weight vanished as it reared back, screeching in pain. I scrambled back, dragging myself away, through the dust and ash and fallen debris of the cavern’s partially collapsed ceiling. And the thing screamed; a sound so loud and terrible and so completely inhuman that the entire mountain seemed to shudder from the sheer force of it. And I crawled, even as I heard its thundering footsteps draw ever closer, maybe this time with the intent to kill.

I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the pain searing in my chest. Do I have the strength to fight it anymore? Do I even _want_ to _try?_

In that moment, I was almost content to simply let it have me.

And then;

“No!” Constantin’s voice shouted from what felt like everywhere and nowhere at once, echoing around the cavern and radiating power and authority. _“Stop!”_

My eyes snapped open just in time to see a strange sort of shiver pass through the nádaig as it froze dead, looming almost directly over me, completely unable to disobey. I found myself staring up at it, searching its face for some vague remaining scrap of humanity. For some faint echo of the person it surely must have been, once upon a time. Searching for that strange, innate connection I’d felt with another one of its kind, back on the Sérène docks so long ago. I watched it, suddenly unable to help but wonder if there was anything left of that person, or if it truly was nothing more than a mindless attack dog firmly under Constantin’s control, even as the sanctuary it was bound to protect crumbled to dust around it.

_“Step back.”_

At Constantin’s command, it seemed to shudder once again, before slowly pulling away, the sound of wood and bone cracking and grinding against each other as it took a step back, jerking away from me.

I lay there for a moment, chest heaving, before rolling onto my side and staggering to my feet, doing everything in my power to ignore the vicious pain that exploded from everywhere. A dull, throbbing ache built up behind my eyes, leaving me light-headed and unfocused, even as I felt blood run down my face, trickling out from my nose and lip. Every breath felt almost like swallowing knives; sending stabbing pain throughout my chest. I was battered and beaten and bruised; exhausted and almost on the verge of collapsing as it all seemed to hit me at once.

I don’t know what I was thinking, in that moment. I’m unsure I was thinking anything at all.

“I never wanted you to get hurt,” Constantin whispered – from somewhere and nowhere and somehow, _everywhere,_ all at once. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I’m sorry.”

I started towards him, towards the direction I thought his voice was coming from, but before I could make it even a few paces, I lurched forwards, my hands on my knees as I doubled over, coughing and gasping as blood dribbled from my mouth, watching it splatter onto the ground in front of me. Watching it turn from red to an ashen grey in a second as the life was drained from it, too.

Maybe that should have meant something. Maybe I was supposed to feel something, in that moment. Instead, I stared idly at it, unsure if it was even _real._

Is this real?

What am I even doing here? I shouldn’t be here. This shouldn’t be _happening._

How did this all happen so quickly? How did I go from triumph to catastrophe without even _realising?_ How did I not see it? It had been right in front of me, all along.

I should have seen it.

Why is this happening?

Why didn’t I _see_ it?

 _“Why?”_ I choked out, my voice rasping and hoarse as I straightened once again. “Why are you doing this?!”

I could see him now; standing motionless in the ritual circle, surrounded by a swirling cloud of dust and ash that seemed a terrible echo of the way leaves seemed to dance in the air the last time I was here. Looking so tall and so confident and so composed and so completely, agonisingly familiar.

I winced; though from the pain or something else entirely, I couldn’t say.

Maybe I did see it. Maybe I saw it all along, and just couldn’t bear to admit it. Or maybe I truly never saw it at all and I’m not nearly as clever as everyone around me seems to think. I don’t know. I can’t tell anymore.

Maybe I’m a coward. Or maybe I’m an idiot. I can’t say which is better.

I blinked and shook my head slightly, trying to force myself to focus. Immediately, my head spun sickeningly in response, nausea clawing at my gut.

I can’t-

It felt too much. Too much and not enough. I was utterly numb and so completely hyper-aware of everything around me. Unable to make sense of the inherent contradiction of that, and not even bothering to try.

This isn’t happening.

Is this happening?

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what this is.

I can’t do this.

Is this happening? Is this _real?_

What am I doing? Why am I doing this? Who am I fighting for? The world? The island? The natives? The Congregation? My friends? Síora? _Myself?_

Nothing makes sense anymore.

“Oh, _Ad_ _élard,”_ Constantin called, his voice soft and full of some strange, perverse affection. “For _you._ For us! So that we may live free at last.”

For me? That doesn’t-

What does that even _mean?_

“That makes no sense,” I hissed back at him in between frantic gasps for air. “Constantin, it’s _madness!_ _”_

I struggled to breathe; my chest screaming out in agony every time I tried. I hugged myself tightly and keeled over, barely able to focus on anything that wasn’t that pain, or the taste of blood in my mouth, or the churning in my stomach.

It’s not supposed to be like this. It never should’ve happened this way. None of this should’ve happened.

It can’t be like this. It can’t _end_ like this.

I can’t _do_ this.

I glanced up at the sound of quiet footsteps, just in time to see him scrape my own discarded knife off the ground and approach, walking over to me with a serene calm that seemed completely out of place with the carnage that surrounded us. I couldn’t bring myself to move, not even as he knelt down and placed a hand on my shoulder, in what I think was supposed to be a reassuring gesture.

It felt like the heaviest thing in the world in that moment.

 _“Listen to me,”_ he urged quietly, his lips cracking into a smile, his eyes carefully meeting mine and never leaving. “I know you’re frightened. I know you don’t think you understand. But you _do!_ _”_ he broke out into a strange sort of hysterical chuckle. “Adélard, _of course_ you do. Better than anyone.”

I’m not sure I understand anything anymore.

“You’re still attached to this world – this old, _dying_ world,” he added almost as an afterthought, the venom in his voice all too clear. “Believe me, I know. I _understand._ You’ve lost your place, so you’re clinging to what’s familiar. I did the same. But the world and everything in it is _tearing_ at you. It’s betrayed, used, and manipulated all of us, just in order to survive. You _most_ of all.”

“What- …what are you _talking_ about?”

“You’re drowning under the weight of everyone else’s problems, always expected to put them first,” he told me, earnestly, watching me with wide eyes, silently _daring_ me to tell him he was wrong. “And you _do,_ because that’s what you’ve _always_ done. I can _see_ it, cousin. I’ve seen it wearing on you.”

He’s not wrong.

Maybe that’s the worst part.

He’s not wrong, and he _knows_ he isn’t, and so do I. He’s always been more observant than I’ve given him credit for. Especially when it comes to me. And here I always thought I was so _clever,_ hiding things from him. I’ve never been able to hide _anything_ from him. Why did I think now would be any different? Even in the depths of his madness, he can see straight through me.

I hate this.

“Look at what they’ve done!” he all but yelled, gripping my shoulders with both hands and shaking me a little, his eyes desperately searching my face for some hint at understanding. “To me, to _you!_ These people, they’ve taken everything from you. Because how can they hope to survive without you?”

“C-Constantin…” I stammered out his name, hating myself as my voice shook and broke, all while frantically trying to blink away the tears I could feel welling up in my eyes.

“It doesn’t have to _be_ this way,” he insisted, quietly but confidently, eyes bright and lips cracked into a smile. “I have been offered _unrivalled_ power; the chance to get _rid_ of all this! To send the old world _back_ to its inevitable death, and build something _new_ here! Something _unique!_ _”_

I closed my eyes and inhaled – softly, shakily, out of some vain effort to calm myself, to focus on what was happening. On what I was realising was inevitable.

I don’t want to do this.

I _can_ _’t_ do this.

I can’t make that decision. I can’t be the one to stop it. It can’t be me.

I can’t.

I _can_ _’t._

“You saved me, so many times I’ve lost count. You’ve sacrificed _everything_ for me, Adélard. I will never be able to repay that debt. But let this be where I start,” he continued, gripping my shoulders tightly and all but forcing eye contact. “We stand on the precipice of godhood, you and I. Kings of a new world order. All we need to do now is simply _take_ it.”

He made it sound so easy. Like usurping a god wasn’t any more impressive than deciding what to eat for breakfast that morning. He’d already made his decision, and was waiting for me to make mine. Kill a god, or kill what remains of the only family I ever really had. Either way, I was being asked to do the unthinkable.

Why? Why has this all fallen on _me?_ Why is it my decision? Why do _I_ have to be the one to do it? I’m nothing. No one. At best, I’m just a savage, pretending to be a diplomat. Now I’m being asked to choose? Between the entire world, and everything I’ve ever cared about? Why this? Why here? Why now?

Why _me?_

I could hear something else in the silence that followed; a quiet, vague whispering, a thousand voices shouting at me from across what felt like an endless distance. Screaming out a frantic warning, the words of which I couldn’t quite make out. Still there, still fighting, but fading, fast. The soul of the mountain, of the island, struggling against the terrible power Constantin now wielded; such a far cry from the overwhelming, crushing presence from before.

I couldn’t make out the words, but I didn’t need to.

I know what I have to do, what needs to be done if I want to stop this. I know there isn’t another choice. There isn’t a third option. I know what has to happen, but I don’t know if I have the strength to do it. If I’ll even _survive_ it. But the decision needs to be made, and fate would have me be the one to make it.

But I can’t.

I _can_ _’t._

I can’t lose him. I can’t lose the last person who cares about me. Not again.

My breath hitched in my throat as I watched him, as I stared absently at his face, scarred by both malichor and the effects of the bonding ritual.

I’ve already lost him.

I lost him such a long time ago, and didn’t even realise.

Because I didn’t see it. Because even when it was obvious, even when it was deliberately pointed out to me, I ignored it. Tried to rationalise it away. Tried to tell myself that he wasn’t like that, that he wouldn’t do this, that I had to give him the benefit of the doubt. Because I was still naïve enough to think this would go any other way.

And I can’t save him anymore.

“You _belong_ here,” he told me, eyes wide and earnest, gesturing at the crumbling sanctuary. “With _me,_ Adélard. You always have. And all the people who ever doubted us, doubted _you,_ will _bow_ before us.”

I stared.

For so long, that was all I could do.

I could almost see it; see what he was trying to describe. A perfect utopia, unfettered by all the ills of this world. One where love, respect, and community were things I’d never have to fight for. A chance to live freely; unashamed and unburdened. Able to guide everything and everyone how I saw fit. All the colour and brand new life that would spring forth from so much death. The ability to become more than I, than _anyone,_ had ever dreamed.

There was a certain beauty in it. A dream of a better life. A better world. A new beginning.

It was frightening, what he was describing. Nightmarish. And beautiful.

I clung to that.

“The world doesn’t deserve you, cousin,” he whispered as he slowly stood back up, gently pulling me up with him. “It will _never_ deserve you.”

The corner of my lips twitched with a small, sad, crooked smile.

He isn’t subtle when he’s trying to be manipulative. He never has been.

He pulled back slightly, pulling the knife out from where he’d tucked it into his belt, holding it out for me to take.

“All you have to do is bind yourself; here, with me,” he said as I slowly took it while trying to ignore how much my hands were shaking. “And we will be gods together, forever.”

For so long, I didn’t move. Just stood there, rooted to the spot, staring absently at the blade, at the way the light glinted off the cold steel.

I never wanted this. I never wanted _any_ of this.

Constantin smiled warmly at me, holding out his hand, as if to welcome me home.

_“Come.”_

I wish things were different.

I wish we never came here.

I wish none of this ever happened.

I gripped the knife.

And I plunged it into his gut.


End file.
